Take My Life
by Bottlebrush
Summary: Ever think Remus Lupin didn't seem like himself in Books 6 and 7? Well, maybe that's because he really wasn't himself. Who was he? Find out here. Remus Lupin, an OC, implied slash SBRL.


Title: Take My Life

Rating: K 

Summary: Ever think that Remus Lupin didn't seem like himself in Books 6 and 7? Well, maybe that's because he wasn't himself. Takes place between OotP and HBP. Remus, an OC, implied slash SBRL.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world and its characters. J. K. Rowling does.

On the eighth day after Sirius Black fell behind the veil at the Department of Mysteries, Remus Lupin got up early, had a shower, washed his hair, shaved, and put on clean clothes. He acknowledged that the world had not ended, much though he wished it would; and that life would go on, with him or without him. He decided that it had better be _with _him, for various reasons: Harry, the Order, the War, Voldemort. These things put pressure on him, forcing him away from his desired course of action, which would have been to go deliberately through the veil, find Sirius, and either bring him back to the world or, should that prove impossible, remain with him wherever he was.

In the kitchen, he briefly considered breakfast, then dismissed the idea. He was not ready for that yet. He managed to down a cup of weak black tea before leaving Grimmauld Place and making his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

There, alone in an alcove, was the person he sought: his friend, Lawrence. Remus bought two butterbeers and carried them over. Lawrence looked up and his face brightened.

"Missed you last week," he said.

"Yes, I was …… held up," Remus answered.

"Longest I haven't seen you since – oh, must be six months, since that day you came to talk to me in the Serious Bites ward."

Remus smiled vaguely and took a swig of his butterbeer. It warmed him and tasted surprisingly good.

"You don't look too well," Lawrence said. "You all right?"

"Not really," Remus answered. He paused a few moments, then went on "I've lost Sirius. He died – he was killed, a week ago."

"Oh, that's – that's terrible. He was your best friend, wasn't he?"

"My lover."

"Ah. Well, I can't pretend to understand …… two blokes …… but I know he meant a lot to you."

"He meant everything to me."

"I'm sorry. Really sorry. And – this is what everybody says – but if there's anything I can do, anything at all ……"

"I'll remember. Thanks."

"If you want to talk about him……"

Remus shook his head. The last thing he wanted right then was to talk about Sirius. He needed distraction. "How was your week?" he asked.

"Something a bit strange," Lawrence said, following Remus's lead. "Few days ago two blokes, werewolves, came up to me in the pub and talked about a new group that was forming, to work for better conditions for werewolves. Wanted me to join them. They said the man running it was called Greyback, Fen – something –"

"Fenrir Greyback."

"You know him, then?"

"I know of him, yes."

"Which side is he on?"

"The wrong one."

"That's what I thought. I didn't like the look of them – shifty – and some of what they said didn't add up."

"What did you tell them?"

"Said I'd think it over. I wanted to talk to you first. See, I was wondering if maybe I should go along with them, agree to join them, then I could get information and report it back to you. Be a sort of double agent, like."

Remus was silent. He felt as if a large axe had hit his head, split it open and revealed new and interesting possibilities.

"Remus? What do you think? Oh, I suppose it's no go really, I'm not smart enough to carry it off, I'd be rumbled for sure."

"No, wait. It just might work. I can't promise anything, but……leave it with me. If they approach you again, stall them. Tell them you need more time. Make it sound as though you're thinking seriously about their offer. And get us another butterbeer, would you?"

-oo000oo-

All the way home and for the rest of the night, he debated with himself.

_It'll never work._

It might. It's worth a try.

_But it's wrong. He doesn't know what he'd be letting himself in for._

So I'll tell him.

_I'd be abandoning my duty. Dumbledore – the Order – Harry – I can't just……_

I can, if I make appropriate arrangements.

_So many things could go wrong….._

Then I'll have to see that they don't, won't I?

_It'll cost too much gold, and I haven't any._

But I know a man who has. Had.

_That's stealing._

And this is war!

By morning, he had convinced himself. Only if Lawrence was willing, he resolved. He would explain everything to him, and if there was the slightest sign of reluctance on Lawrence's part, he would back off. The first thing was to get the money. He still had a key to Sirius's vault at Gringotts. The goblins wouldn't question him; possession of the key was what mattered. Strictly speaking, Remus supposed, he _was_ stealing, from Sirius's heir, presumably Harry. In all the years from Sirius's imprisonment until now, Remus had not taken so much as a knut from the vault, not even when he had not known where his next meal would come from. He had used the vault only to deposit the few of Sirius's possessions which were of more than negligible value, because Remus had not wished to see them again and could in any case not be burdened with them in his itinerant life. But now he needed money for something much more important than food or shelter, and he would not hesitate to take it.

With three thousand Galleons concealed under his shabby robes, Remus made his way to Knockturn Alley, to a shop he had visited several times before.

"Good morning, Mr Lupin, what can I do for you today?" Simon Mercator, the shopkeeper, enquired. When Remus told him, his eyebrows rose a millimetre or two, but he made no comment. He went to his dusty cupboard at the back of the shop, and returned with two vials.

"Double strength Veritaserum," he said, pushing one forward over the counter. "Strictly illegal."

Remus removed the stopper and shook one drop into his hand, then licked it up. "Question me," he said.

The shopkeeper's eyes, pale blue in his brown face, looked straight into Remus's. "What's your name?"

"Remus John Lupin."

"Are you a wizard?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-six – look, this is useless. Ask me something……testing."

Mercator's eyes narrowed, and a faint smile crossed his face. "Are you fully human?" he asked.

Remus hesitated, struggled. This was none of the shopkeeper's business. What right had he to ask such a question? _I won't answer_, he thought. 'You must_,'_ said the single drop of potion inside him. _I'll tell him I am. _But the potion said 'You cannot.'

"No, I'm a werewolf," said Remus. "How did you know?"

Mercator shrugged. "A guess," he said lightly. "Are you satisfied with the potion?"

How could he not be? Remus had knowingly taken the potion, had tried to resist its effect, and been unable to. With time and practice, he probably could, but someone given it without his knowledge would have no chance against it. "Yes," he said.

"Now the other," Mercator said. "Legilimax. The latest from the Pharmaceutical Weapons Laboratory, not on the open market, and never will be. Boosts natural legilimency powers by a factor of five."

"Will you let me test it?"

Mercator shrugged again. Remus swallowed one drop from the second vial, then took Mercator's hands in his own and looked into his eyes. He became aware of the other man's mind, his thoughts, his memories. Mercator had a deeper, more extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts than Remus himself, but kept aloof, supplying his wares at a handsome profit, but maintaining his own strange morality: judging no one, betraying no one. A multitude of secrets lay deep in his memory. Remus did not probe them; he had seen enough. He broke the contact.

"Thank you for permitting me – I will not, of course……"

"No, you will not," Mercator said softly. The faintest perceptible trace of a threat hung in his words. "There is something else?"

"Yes," said Remus. "A Transference Stone, and the potions that go with it."

"You realise we're talking real money here? Three thousand Galleons for the set."

"Two thousand five hundred, last I heard," Remus said coolly.

They haggled in the somewhat mechanical way of people who already know how it will end, and finally Remus had the stone and the two vials of potion that activated it, plus the double-strength Veritaserum, the Legilimax and a vial of thirty-day non-specific Polyjuice for a total of two thousand eight hundred and fifty-five Galleons. He examined the Stone: grey, granite-like, oval, about fifteen inches at its greatest length, with twenty shallow depressions in four semi-circles. When he touched it he could feel a vibration deep within it, like the purr in the throat of a peaceful cat. It was genuine.

000000

"Let me get this straight," Lawrence frowned. "You want me to turn into you?"

"No, not at all," Remus told him. "You would look like me, and you would have all my memories and my knowledge, but you would still be yourself. Your thoughts and feelings, desires, ambitions, opinions, all would be your own. But in addition, you would remember everything I remember up to the moment of Transfer, and know everything I know."

"Sounds confusing," said Lawrence.

"Yes, but it's not really. Your own memories would be quite separate from mine. Let me try to give you an example – what don't you like? Name something you hate."

"Dogs. Big ones. I can't stand them, ever since……"

"Yes, I understand. But as it happens, I like dogs. Now, if you saw a dog, you'd feel the same about it as you do now. You'd dislike it, try to avoid it. But at the same time, you'd know that I liked them. It wouldn't mean _you_ liked them, your own reaction wouldn't change. Do you see what I mean?"

"Think so."

"Take another example. What's your favourite food?"

"Bacon sandwich."

"Well, you'll still like bacon sandwiches. But you'll know that I don't."

"You don't?"

"No, I'm a vegetarian."

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. So I'll have to be one too, won't I? At least when I'm around people who know you?"

"No. You say you decided to give meat a try, and found you liked it after all. Molly will be delighted that I've come to my senses at last. You see, you don't change who you are. You just have me in the background, so that you can do my job for me."

"I understand. I'll do it, I really want to. If you think I'm up to it."

"You are. Can we go to your place to sort out the details?"

Remus had not reached this decision lightly. Distracting Lawrence's attention by pointing out a drunken hag and warlock making an exhibition of themselves at the other end of the pub, he had slipped a drop of double-strength Veritaserum into Lawrence's drink and Legilimax into his own, thinking wryly that now was not the time to get his potions mixed up. When he questioned Lawrence about his motives for wanting to spy on the werewolves, he leaned forward and laid his fingers on Lawrence's wrist, to enhance his already-boosted legilimency. The result had been entirely satisfactory. Lawrence did not trust the werewolves who had approached him. He did not believe Voldemort had the slightest interest in the welfare of werewolves, and suspected they would be used and then ruthlessly discarded when the Dark Lord attained power. More than that, Remus saw that Lawrence was a brave and honest man who could be depended on to carry out to the best of his ability anything he undertook to do. And with Remus's abilities added to Lawrence's, Remus would be free.

oo000oo

Lawrence's flat was larger and more comfortable than Remus had expected, but then Lawrence had only been a werewolf for about six months. He accepted the offer of tea, more to put Lawrence at ease than because he wanted it. He placed the stone on the table between them. Lawrence looked at it with nervous curiosity.

"Never seen one before," he said.

"Few people have," Remus replied, pouring potion from the vials into the shallow depressions around the stone's edges. Finally he drank what was left in one vial, passing the other to Lawrence to do the same.

"Now put your fingertips into the dips in the stone."

The vibration in the stone increased, became audible, and speeded up. Both men felt their heart rate accelerate, and a feeling of fear and reluctance threatened to overcome them. With determination they kept their fingers on the stone until the vibration slowed and quietened.

"You see why I couldn't do this with any normal human," Remus said.

Lawrence nodded. "These experiences – memories – and you've had, what, thirty years of it? I thought six months was bad. You never get used to it, do you?"

"Not really. You pretend you have, and with luck you might come to believe it. You can still back out now. I have a potion that can reverse the Transfer." He wondered what he would do if Lawrence said yes.

"No," said Lawrence. "I want to do it. My way of fighting back. You understand?"

"Perfectly. Now, these capsules contain thirty-day Polyjuice, modified to my appearance…."

"What do you mean, thirty-day?"

"You know the standard Polyjuice wears off after an hour. This stuff is top secret, impossible to obtain unless you know the right people. I've put it into capsules for convenience. Each one lasts thirty days. But I suggest you take one the day after your transformations, that will make it easy to remember. There are enough here for about four years. After that you'll revert to your own appearance."

Lawrence took the box of capsules and held one between finger and thumb. "Shall I take one now?" he asked.

Remus shook his head. "Not yet. I'm going to give you a couple of days to get used to the idea. Some people find someone else's memories too much of a burden, or they develop a feeling of being watched, spied on. If you don't feel completely at ease, we won't go through with it."

oo000oo

Remus spent the next two days in acute anxiety. What if Lawrence did after all find the situation intolerable? Remus could not force him to take his place, and would not even if he could. But he need not have worried. Lawrence greeted him, smiling.

"It felt a bit weird at first, but now I've got used to it, I really like having your memories," he said. "It's like having a big filing cabinet in my head, that I can look in whenever I want. You know such a lot about magic, I never dreamed …… and such _dark_ stuff, too. It scares me, and yet at the same time it doesn't, because I know I can handle it now." He smiled again. "I even understand now about liking blokes. I still prefer women, though."

"Told you," Remus said, laughing. "Women and bacon sandwiches……"

He watched as Lawrence swallowed the capsule, and became Remus: tired lined face, greying hair. "I'm sorry," Remus said.

"What for?"

"Lumbering you with my unprepossessing looks."

"Doesn't matter. Whatever it takes to get the job done." He hesitated, then added "You're going to die, aren't you? You're going to kill yourself."

"Not if I can help it," Remus answered. "I'm going to find Sirius and bring him back."

"But if you can't …… you won't come back without him."

"No," said Remus, aware that it was impossible to lie to Lawrence, who knew all his thoughts and fears.

They parted then; identical twins first shaking hands, then awkwardly patting each other on the shoulder before Remus apparated away.

oo000oo

To gain entry to the Ministry building, Remus provided himself with a Muggle artefact which had been so thoroughly misused that it had to be handed over to Arthur Weasley in person: an old manual typewriter that had been charmed so that whatever one thought one typed on it, what appeared on the paper was the front page of that day's _Daily Prophet_. Extremely dangerous if it ever got back into Muggle hands, Arthur agreed, taking charge of it.

Remus stayed for a cup of tea in Arthur's office, silently taking his leave of his friend for ever. He felt guilty for the deception he was perpetrating on them all: Arthur, Dumbledore, Kingsley, all his friends. And the young people: Hermione, Neville, above all Harry. None of them could be told. Secrecy weighed heavily on him, but was replaced by rising excitement when he left Arthur's office and made his way to the Department of Mysteries.

It hadn't been too difficult; he'd had to fast-talk a few people on the way, and tamper ever so slightly with their perceptions, but now here he was, facing the Veil. Its dark folds moved in the non-existent breeze, like the tattered cloak of some old eminent magician driven mad by his own cruelty. Remus stepped behind it, and fell.

He fell long enough to wonder how he would ever get back up, if he wanted to return to the world. Then he landed, painlessly, on soft ground: sand, or dust, enough of it to cushion his fall. He picked himself up, and looked around. There was nothing to see but darkness: not uniform, but varying, in patches of lighter and darker grey. In one direction there was an area that seemed lighter than the surrounding gloom. That was where Sirius would have headed. Remus set off towards it.

The soft sandy ground prevented him moving quickly, and the patch of light grey did not seem to come any closer. The darkness around him seemed to be moving, and there were sounds in it, like voices whispering just too softly for him to hear what they said. They sounded hostile, dangerous, and he was afraid; fear greater than any he had ever felt before. Not in the thick, oppressive heat of the African bush, not in the frozen Wendigo-haunted wastes of Canada, not in the fiery underground domain of Icelandic goblins had he experienced such dread. He wanted to sit down on the ground, wrap his arms around his head and pretend he wasn't there, so that he might be overlooked by the malevolent whisperers……no. _Think of Sirius. He's been here. He might still be here. Am I not a Marauder, one of the Marauders of Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart?_

Remus had never believed himself to be a very brave person; he had simply seen what needed to be done, and done it. Now, he reminded himself why he was here: to find Sirius. It might help to call out; after all, if Sirius were anywhere near, he might not see him in the shifting darkness. He had a passing fear that if he opened his mouth what would come out would be merely a louder version of the damnable whispering, but he overcame the feeling and said "Sirius?"

It was his own familiar voice; quiet, but his own. It needed to be louder. As he walked on, he made himself call Sirius's name more loudly and as he did so the whisperings faded to silence and only Remus's own voice could be heard: "Sirius Black!"

"No need to shout, Moony." The cool, slightly amused voice came from behind. Remus spun round.

"Sirius?"

The figure moved closer, and the darkness seemed to shrink away from him, leaving him clearly visible: Sirius, but looking younger and healthier than when Remus had last seen him. The loved, familiar voice spoke again: "What are you doing here, Remus?"

"Looking for you. I've come to take you home."

"I can't go back there, Moony, and – I'm afraid, neither can you, now."

"You mean we're dead?"

"Dead to that world, yes, but there are other worlds, an infinity of worlds and adventures!" Sirius's face was alight with the eager enthusiasm of his young self.

At that moment, Remus cared only about one thing. "Will we be together?" he asked.

"In some of them, yes, in others, not. But we'll always find each other in the end. You found me just now, didn't you? And we can rest, first, for as long as we need to. It's a beautiful place, you'll love it."

"How do you know?"

"I've been there. I only came back here because I heard you calling me."

"There were voices – whispering –"

"I know. I heard them too. But they're not real. They come from inside your head. It's a test, and you passed it. Don't worry about it. Let's go."

They walked together towards the patch of light, and this time, Remus noticed, they made good progress. They were halfway there when Sirius spoke again: "James and Lily are there. They'll be so pleased to see you."

_James and Lily. _What would they think, when they knew Remus had left Harry behind in that hostile world? "I didn't just abandon them, Harry and the others," he told Sirius. "I made provision. The werewolf, Lawrence, he was at St Mungo's when Arthur……"

Sirius stopped and turned to face him. "Tell me about it later," he said. "First……" he took Remus in his arms and kissed him.

All Remus's anxiety melted away and there was only gladness in Sirius's presence, in the joyful reunion. "So we _can_……" Remus murmured. "I mean, we can still……not that it matters……no, I mean it does matter, but it would have been enough just to see and speak……ah, but if we _can_……"

"Oh, we definitely can," said Sirius, and kissed him again.

-oo000oo-

In the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place, Molly beamed as she served Lawrence a second helping of beef stew. "I'm so glad you're feeling better, Remus," she said. "You see, life does go on."

Lawrence did not answer her. He was distracted by the rather stunning pink-haired witch sitting opposite him at the table. She was smiling at him too, but her smile was different from Molly's. In fact, it was almost as if……

_Don't even think about it,_ Lawrence admonished himself. _Nice girl like that doesn't want to get involved with a werewolf. And even if she would, it wouldn't be right to take advantage. She's only young._

He smiled back anyway.


End file.
